Posted: July 16, 2013 in Uncategorized


[A spontaneous demo about speaking to irreconcilable attachments.]


Graffiti by Alexandre Orion

My voice sounds like a St. Bernard right now, but it’s an interesting enough texture that I decided to sing through it anyway and make shattershot lyrics on the spot. I don’t know if I accomplished any truth here.

So here it is:  ‘An Underground Passage That Somewhere Leads to Night.’

Since I improvised the lyrics in the recording, I made some changes in case I ever want to perform this again or give it to a friend.

I wanna live-in, lovin’-lovin’ man (or a woman) to find me.
Who knows what castle they can come to when I dine.
Hey, baby, look over your shoulder
It’s someone you used to watch when the world was a mile older
And everybody’s telling me “I AM YOUR FRIEND

But what they didn’t know now
No, what they can’t know now
Is that arms sealed their fate
In our (little) seed of hate

And now we’re waiting alone –
Oh, oh –
Why don’t you help yourself to what you want?
Though, it’s old…
Don’t chase it cold

I’m holding your half-a-dozen-lies down, baby.

Oh, oh, oh, oh…

Keep it down, my friends
You have no whisper to cross now
The night is finally here…
The night is finally here…
The night is finally here…


This is what I was recommended for the radiation burns in my throat. (Not the black cheese. Sorry, some of us can afford to  be walking contradictions!  Even if you’re completely broke.) So the Manuka Honey was $25. I was FLABBERGASTED, but the stuff actually works, so what else could you want?

I’ve been having dreams of Tom Waits singing to me a clown sweating off his white face paint and sucking on a patriot popsicle.  So that’s probably where the song I just posted came from.  Sugar, sweat and America.  The real question is do you guys remember how fucking brilliant he was in The Fisher King?

Why keep apologizing for posting spontaneous work?  Especially with so very little time to look in the rear view mirror lately.   In 15 minutes, I am off for a full day of bloodwork, medication specialists, a radiation session and an appointment with my oncologist addressing why I can’t breathe after swallowing food.

Still set to help Rob on sailboat movie.  Writing Christmas pageant.  Raising dogs.  I am happy.

It’s not the worst it could be, or even the worst it’s ever been.  Isn’t that what they call antiseptic wisdom?

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